


Unexpected

by Em3kitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Greatest Showman (2017), The Greatest Showman - Fandom
Genre: Canon Romance, F/M, Gen, Multi Chapter, Post Film, canon plot, canon time, no idea how long it will go for, post plot, so many chapters, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em3kitty/pseuds/Em3kitty
Summary: The Barnum family are sitting down to dinner, a rather raucous affair, when an unexpected guest appears in one of the most unexpected ways, even for Phineas, the most unexpected of them all.





	1. Prologue

When Phineas was two, he made the apple down the street roll to his feet.

When Phineas was five, his father’s hat didn’t slide off his head.

When Phineas was seven, the snake in the grass hissed his name.

When Phineas was nine, no amount of wishing could save his father.

When Phineas was nineteen, he married his childhood sweetheart, Charity, who had returned from boarding school in France.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this is a crazy stupid idea I came up with about a week ago. No idea how it'll turn out. Let's see.


	2. 1: L'invité

Dinner in the Barnum household was never a quiet affair. Sure, once upon a time they lived in a beautiful large house with grand staircases and hallways long enough to practice archery ( _ not that anyone ever did that, no _ ) but a series of questionable decisions made by one Mr. P. T. Barnum lead to the loss of that home. Even back then with the gilded windows and marble floors, dinner was never quiet. 

It was rumoured that the Mrs. Charity Barnum was the only soul that could ever tame her husband. If she ever chose to, that is. 

So on this particular Sunday evening, the Barnum family, Phineas - P. T. - Charity, Caroline, and little Helen, all sat around their humble little table in their just as humble home, not too far from Mr. Barnum’s work naturally, to have a dinner that would warm the hearts, and water the mouths, of any who saw. With a generous leg of ham with mash potato and crunchy carrots all but demolished, the grapes ( _ which had been saved for dessert _ ) were now flying across the table, the innocent, delighted giggles of Mr. Barnum’s daughters filling the air. This was a favourite past time of theirs. No matter where they lived, as long as they were together, they could throw grapes at each other. Whether those grapes landed in a cup made of gold or an ever-hungry mouth, Mrs. Barnum knew that everything would be alright. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but it would all be alright. Eventually. 

Mrs. Barnum’s thought were interrupted by one of said grapes hitting her cheek. With a smirk on her lips and a spark in her eye that could rival her husband’s, she scooped up the grape from where it had settled in her skirts and threw it right back at her youngest, only to overshoot and said grape bounced over her shoulder, across the timber floors and landing in the fireplace. 

No sooner had the grape come to a stop, did the fireplace go up in bright green flames, startling the small family. Being the middle of summer, the stones in the hearth were cool to the touch from lack of use, and continued to stay cool as a feminine figure rolled out of the flames and onto the rug, leaving the house surprisingly quiet. 


	3. 2: Marraine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you picnokinesis for beta-ing the chapter!

“Mrs. Claus?”

It was the sweet sound of the youngest Barnum, Helen, that broke the silence, simultaneously reminding Mrs. Barnum that her children and husband were in the room with this strange woman. For she was very strange. The woman appeared to be dressed in something that was fashionable almost two centuries ago, a mantua, while her hair was in the style of “ _tête de mouton_ ” with short curls and some locks on the nape, fashionable around the 1750’s. The makeup upon her face was startling in the way that the rouge and cherry lip colour stood out against her white foundation, and a tiny patch of fabric, in the shape of a heart was stuck to her face, near the corner of her eye. The poor woman was a mismatch of the highest fashion from all over the last two centuries.

With barely a glance to her husband, Mrs. Barnum ushered young Helen and Caroline into the next room, confusing the unexpected guest. “Charity, darling? What are you doing? Can’t I say hello to my precious goddaughters?”

“You can,” Mrs. Barnum said in a low hush, her heart in her throat, daring not to think of her husband still in the room as she glanced over her shoulder, praying her two girls had not snuck back into the room as they had done so, so many times in the past. “I’d appreciate it if you sent an owl letting me know you were coming, or better yet, a muggle letter.”

“Oh hush,” the strange woman said with a scoff, waving her hand dismissively, shaking her head the curls bouncing as she did so. “The bloody thing kept trying to nip at my fingers when I tried to give it the letter. It wouldn’t cooperate so I decided to come and see you today. Now,” she said, clapping her hands together as she craned her neck to look over Mrs. Barnum’s shoulder. “Where are my goddaughters? I want to see them.” The demanding tone in the strange woman caught Mr. Barnum off guard as he finally snapped to, no longer resembling a stunned mullet, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Miss Black-”

Mr. Barnum sounded very strangled as he tried to comprehend _how_ his wife’s best friend and godmother to his two precious daughters, had just come tumbling through their fireplace, as if she was, like little Helen said, jolly old Saint Nicholas. Before he could utter a word more, the strange woman waved him off, as if he were nothing more than a fly buzzing around her head.

“Phineas, my dear, we’ve known each other for Merlin knows how long, I insist you call me Phoebe.”

“Phoebe, of course, my apologies-”

“None necessary, I assure you.”

Poor Mr. Barnum was becoming increasingly more frustrated and confused with the woman in front of him, constantly cutting him off mid-sentence. The lady standing in front of him was not the Miss. Phoebe Black that he remembers at his wedding, or the Christening of his two daughters.

With a chin held high, Miss. Black breezed past Mr. Barnum, heading towards the doors that lead to the other room, the room that contained Helen and Caroline. With a firm and sharp grip, Mrs. Barnum’s hand snapped out and clutched Miss. Black’s upper arm as she tried to pass.

“Phoebe, what are you doing here? We had an agreement; no impromptu visits until everything has been explained to my family.”

“Agree-”

“Explained? My dear _aumône_ , what is there to explain? Do not tell me you haven’t told Phineas yet-”

“Told- now, just hang on a minute-”

Mr. Barnum could hardly get a word in, the bizarre woman charging on ahead as if he never spoke. “Caroline is nearly eleven - are you trying to tell me that she has had _no_ instinctual acts of accidental magic? That she could be a _pétard_?”

“The possibility is very real and not to be discussed at this current moment.” Her words were accented by the uneasy glance over her shoulder to her husband.

The witch sneered. “If you’re really so stressed about him knowing about your life, about you, just obliviate him. Where’s your wand?”

The tense silence and Charity not meeting Phoebe’s stern gaze was enough of an answer for the witch, staring down her nose at the couple. Yanking her arm free from Charity’s grip, she turned heel and stalked back towards the fireplace.

“I will return in three days time, in which you must have explained everything that you have been keeping from your family. I will bring with me an official from the Ministry which should tell us if Caroline is, Merlin forbid, a squib. I’d hate to have to call a meeting with Evangeline, you know how she gets with the whole secrecy issue." The woman's white-painted nose scrunched at the thought.

A strangled gasp made her pause.

" _Mon Noir_ , please. I beg of you. I'm sure Evangeline has many more things to do with her life than to talk to my husband about... about..." Mrs. Barnum trailed off, hanging her head in shame, unable to finish her sentence as tears welled in her eyes.

Defiantly, the witch lifted her chin. "Evangeline is the Minister for Magic now. You would know that if you cared to read any of the letters your  _sœurs_ sent you. _Trois jours_ ; I hope you have everything sorted by then.”

And with that, she stepped into the fireplace once more, green flames erupting around her, leaving Mr. & Mrs. Barnum in a tense silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any incorrect french - I'm using google translate.


End file.
